


Drabble December 2020

by Manrann



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 5,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27839293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manrann/pseuds/Manrann
Summary: Welcome to Drabble December, where I do a drabble a day, every day, for the entirety of December 2020. There will be fluff.  There will be romance. There will be angst. And there will be so much more.Mainly Flowerpot (Harry/Fleur), but other pairings will show up
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	1. December 1st

**Author's Note:**

> (A/N): Welcome to Drabble December 2020! The work in which I post a drabble a day, every day for the entirety of December.  
> All drabbles will be discord drabbles, aka they fit in the 2000 character limit of discord messages.  
> You can catch them a day or two early on the Flowerpot Discord   
> Link: https://discord.gg/Np2zjAH 
> 
> You’re always welcome to hop on anyway. We’re a rapidly growing community that would love to have you join us.
> 
> Without much further ado, lets begin.

**December 1: Content**

The tinkling of a bell resounded through the air as the young man pushed open the door to the bakery. He sighed in delight as he breathed in, the heavenly scent of freshly baked bread pervading his senses as he closed the door behind him, shutting the shilly autumn wind out of the warmth of the store.   
The pitter patter of tiny feet reached his ears, as an adorable little blond girl barreled towards him, flour stains adoring her hands and clothes. “Daddy!”   
He chuckled, bending down to scoop the little girl up into the air, holding her and twirling around as she giggled and clapped.

“So”, He asked, as he brought her down to hold her in his arms, “What did my little girl do today?”

“Me an mama made cake!”, The little blond declared proudly, wide green eyes locked on his own.

His smile widened, as he brought her close to nuzzle her nose, grinning as he watched it scrunch up cutely as she batted as his face, her giggles filling the air.

“There you are!”, a melodious voice called out from behind them, the man turning carefully, the little blond still held in his arms, to behold the wonderful visage of his wife, bond hair tied up in a bun, flour smudges on her cheeks as she smiled at them both, cerulean eyes filled with warmth.

The man stepped closer, hooking his hand around her waist and pulling her into an embrace, ducking his head down to kiss her as her hands found their way up into his raven locks, staining them in a powdery white.

“I missed you”, He whispered as they separated, his emerald eyes finding her blues, a soft smile playing across his lips.   
“I missed you too love”, she replied, snuggling in close, one arm wrapping around the little girl still on his waist as she tucked her head into the crook of his neck, “Even though it was merely a day.”

Harry Potter smiled as he held Fleur and Fae close, reveling in the warmth of their bakery. He had no need for fancy titles or piles of gold.

Harry Potter was content.

Abruptly, he spoke, “So…. I heard there was cake?”   
  



	2. December 2

**December 2: Hunted**

His breath hitched in his throat, green eyes widening near comically as his head jerked backwards.

Just in time to avoid the wicked, shimmering metallic claws that whistled through the air bare millimeters in front of them.

In the moments between breaths, he caught a glimpse of a cybernetic eye, a brilliant blue, clicking and whirring as it locked onto him.

He threw himself backward as a robotic arm, a shimmering silver construct, blue lines running across its surface, clawed fingers outstretched, grasping, swiped through where his head had been a mere moment before.

As he rolled to a crouch, he finally got a good look at the figure that had leapt from the rooftops at him.

The rain lashed down, soaking his hair, pooling in the hood of his synthweave jacket as he stared at the angel of death in front of him.   
Water flowed off the silvery blonde hair of the unmistakably female figure, the cybernetic eye glowing an ominous blue in the neon lit gloom, matched by a cerulean blue eye, both focused solely on him. A dark bodysuit hugged her svelte, shapely form, silvery cybernetic arms, topped with wicked claws melding from the suit from elbow down. A neck unit curved over her shoulder blades onto some form of back unit, connected seamlessly to a utility belt that lay low on her hips.

A breath. Two. And the angel exploded into motion. Harry threw himself to the side as she screeched by him, hand reaching into his jacket to draw his pistol. He leveled it, aiming at her exposed back -

And watched in shock as two mechanical  _ wings _ burst from her back unit, slicing the pistol in half.

Cursing, he backpedalled as she turned to face him. A face mask had formed from the throat unit, covering the lower half of her face in a wicked, skeletal beak.

She lowered herself, crouching onto her back foot as her left arm came up.

And split, revealing the glowing barrel of a laser blaster, pointing right at him.

“Oh, you’ve  _ got to _ be kidding me.”


	3. Harry's Alien Girlfriend

**December 3: Harry’s Alien Girlfriend**

Hermione goggled at the two figures walking up the path to the house she shared with her fiance, Ron Weasley.

The male was tall, taller than he had been when she had last seen him. Yet, she would never misplace that messy head of raven hair, or those sharp green eyes.

Harry Potter had grown in the years they’d been apart, but she would know him anywhere.

No, what had her eyes popping out of her skull was the woman…. Female who strode down the pathway arm in arm with her friend, head resting on his shoulder as they held each other close.

Hermione would have squealed at the cuteness, if that head didn't have tentacle-like hair that seemed to seamlessly flow from her _aqua green_ skin.  
Said hair flowed to the female’s mid thigh, tucked back behind pointed ears, the same aqua tone as the rest of the female’s curvaceous body. Vivid pink irises, shining beacons in her black sclera eyed Hermione and Ron as they stood at the front door, watching Harry and his partner as they stopped in front of them.  
Dressed in a crisp white and gold outfit, much like a blazer, with a bare midriff that tapered down into a dress, slits up the thighs, revealing the black pants underneath.  
“It's good to see you both!”, Harry smiled.

“Right back at you mate”, Ron grinned.

“Harry…. Thats.. She’s..” Hermione stuttered.  
“Ah! Yeah. Ron, Hermione, meet my girlfriend Kendra.”

The female smiled, wiggling her fingers at them in greeting.

“She’s an _alien!_ ”

The girl coloured purple, eyes darting to the ground as she partially hid herself behind Harry, who glared at the brunette, “Hermione! I know she’s a Morag, but do you have to be so _rude_ about it?”

The brunette spluttered in shock, “But… An _alien!_ ”

“So?”, Ron interjected, brows furrowed as he glanced at his fiance, “They obviously make each other happy, if how close they are is any indication.”

“But… But..”

“Really hermione”, Ron sighed, shaking his head, “I wouldn't have taken you of all people for a Xenophobe.”

“Whaa?!”


	4. Hoarfrost and Wildfire

With the coming of the cold they swept down from the north.  
Warriors, invaders, clad in fur and steel and frost.  
Through the mountains, they came, a roaring, grinding tide, advancing ever south, conquering as they went.

None could stand against them for long, for they were no mere army. Led by a beautiful woman with hair of silvery gold, eyes of blue fire, and a blade of hoarfrost they rode, as Veele and Sirene surged through the air above, their beauty seizing the eyes of their opposers even as their flames and magick burnt them to dust.

Sorcery was merely another aspect of their assault, great spells rending the air, shattering the earth, staggering the men, breaking the line before even the first of their troops came into the blade's reach of the enemy.

And she led the line, every time. Known merely as _The Warlady_ , her name became a portent of doom in the places down south, even as fools scoffed at her ability as a lady.

Yet all who had fought them knew of the terror she wrought, young though she may be, the swathes her great hoarfrost blade cut in the defenders ranks as she led her conquerors to ever increasing victory.

Yet, even she met her match. It was not at the hands of some glorious general, or some renowned warrior.  
No, it was met in the form of a young man, a man with eyes of emerald fire and hair as black as a raven's down, in the fields before a tiny town.  
He stood before her, before her armies, fearless and unconcerned. His eyes sparked with conviction, and his grin spoke of madness, yet oozed determination.

This charismatic young man, backed by all who would lay their lot with him, faced the Warlady.

She advanced, frozen blade ready, wings bursting from her back as her silvery gold hair flowed like liquid metal to meet his gleaming blade as they clashed beneath the moon.

The unstoppable cold met the raging wyldfyre.  
And the world was never the same.


	5. Soundless Screams

**December 5: Soundless Screams**

Dudley always told himself that it was an accident.  
He couldn't have known that pushing Harry at that moment would have made him trip. Couldn't have known that Ripper was chasing him.  
Couldn't have known that the mutt would go for the fallen boy's throat.

Yet even though Harry never said anything (not that he could), or even indicated in any way that he blamed him, no matter he tried to tell himself it wasn't his fault, Dudley knew.

He was the reason his cousin brother would never speak again.

He hadn't known how it would come crashing down on him at that moment. Watching the dog lay into his cousin, screaming out for help, seeing his Aunt stagger out, drunk, take one look and _laugh,_ gawking as his parents followed and did _nothing_.

It was then when he'd realised what they were, what he was _becoming_.  
And he hated it.

It had taken him trying to tear Ripper off his flailing cousin that had made his parents take action, his tantrums that had made them take Harry to the hospital, his insistence on change that had let Harry get a chance to heal.

His cousin's mangled throat would never again produce sound, but Dudley would be his voice.

And he would be the voice Harry would have wanted him to be.

His chubby fist had met Polkiss's face when his old gang had jeered at his now mute cousin when Harry had rejoined the school after months of recovery.

His wide green eyes had made Dudley curse his previous behaviour.

He had sworn to himself, sworn to Harry, that he would atone for his last eight years of being an ass, that he would make himself the brother that he should always have been.

He had sworn that things would change, for the better.

Dudley had sworn to hear Harry's soundless screams.


	6. Tattoos

**December 6: Tattoos**

It was a game they liked to play occasionally. She'd lay, bare in the soft light of their lamp as they cuddled on the bed at night, her dirty blonde hair held up in a messy bun by her wand.

He'd run his hands across her bare skin, tracing the contours of her form, ghosting over the dark ink that adorned her form, indicating tattoos one by one, as she gave reasons, meanings, explanations that were different each time, yet no less true than the last.

His green eyes, filled with warmth, would meet her silvery ones as she spoke, encouraging, , as they lay with each other, loving and living and learning.

A moon, etched into the skin above her collarbone. A call to her name, a remembrance of her mother, who'd named her, who she'd lost.

A rabbit, bounding across her back. Just like her, best enjoyed when unrestrained.

A smattering of stars across her shoulder blades. Like her, so far away, yet so much more than you could imagine up close.

Two intertwined names, Pandora and Xenophilius, tied up in each other just like how her parents' hearts had been.

A thestral, adorning her forearm. A memoriam of what she'd lost, and what she'd gained, and who she'd become because of it.

An emerald lightning bolt, on the skin above her heart, a sign of the man who she'd given her heart to, and who'd given her his in return.

A rendition of the planets of their solar system, all lined up in order, across her waist bone. Something she'd gotten because she'd seen it, and thought it would look nice on her skin.

Hey, not every work had to have some great meaning.

There were so many more, black on the pale canvas of her flesh, more reasons yet untold, yet Harry would listen to the tales of those another night. For now, he pulled Luna close, her head tucking into the crook of his neck, one hand reaching up into his raven locks as he wrapped his around her waist, their legs wrapped together as they drifted off to sleep, loved in each other's arms.


	7. The world’s best boyfriend (or, Happy Birthday Katie!)

**December 7th: The world’s best boyfriend (or, Happy Birthday Katie!):** **  
** The sharp rays of the morning sun lit up the inside of the dorm room, illuminating Katie Bell’s form as she sat up on her four poster bed, stretching out and yawning explosively as she blearily took in the empty room, the pile of presents at the end of her bed, her boyfriend , Harry Potter’s green eyes, watching her from his position on her bed, Judy’s open trunk, articles messily scattered - 

Wait.

“Gah!”, she exclaimed, blond hair bouncing as she jerked backwards, eyes focused on Harry, who watched her with a warm smile on his handsome face, raven hair as messy as ever, “Good morning Katie! Happy Birthday!”

“Thank you! Good morn - Wait! Harry! You can't  _ do _ that!”

He blinked, head cocking adorably as he gazed at her, confused, “Can't do what? Am I not allowed to wish you on your birthday?”

Squashing her urge to squeal at his cuteness, she shook her head. ”You’re always welcome to wish me, dumm - No! I  _ mean,  _ you can't just wake me up in…my…dorm. ” She blinked as she realised just where they were. In the sixth year girls dorm. The dorm male students shouldn't have been able to reach.

“Harry?”

“Hm?”

“How did you get in here? You shouldn't be able to!”

He smiled at her, and for a moment, a cold sense of dread filled her, like she was being watched by something  _ dangerous _ , “You assume anything can stop me, if I really want it.”

She blinked, and it was gone, the smile the same warm and loving one she was used to.

She glanced around the room again, the lack of her dormmates distinct.

“Harry, where are the other girls?”

The terror returned, just for a second, as he replied, “I….. may have  _ convinced _ them to give us some privacy.”

Yet, just like before, the feeling left as soon as it had appeared, leaving the blond doubting if it had been real.

“Anyway”, He continued, “It's your birthday. Which means it's my duty as your boyfriend to make sure it's  _ special. _ ”

She blinked, brown eyes confused as she watched him pull a covered tray from behind him. Then he lifted the cloche. And the aroma hit her. Eggs, sandwiches, black pudding, bacon, sausages, toast, and  _ so much more _ .

“I made you Breakfast.”

She took the tray, carefully, watching as Harry sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, “I…. hope you like it.”

Still in awe of the overflowing platter, she took a bite of a sandwich.

And nearly fainted at the overwhelming  _ flavour _ that burst forth on her taste buds.

Coming to, she became aware of Harry’s green eyes inquisitively watching her. 

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“You…. are the best boyfriend ever.”

The joyful smile he gave her buoyed her mood for the rest of the week.

Metres below the couple, in the Gryffindor common room, the rest of the Gryffs crowded around a trembling quartet of sixth year girls, Katie’s dorm mates, clutching each other, eyes wide, fearful, speaking of horrors and pain and terror.

The only response the rest of the house got to any and all questioning was one line. 

“Monster….. He’s a _ monster! _ ”


	8. Moon

**December 8: Moon:**

“I’ve always had a fascination with the moon, you know?”, she whispered, dirty blond hair shimmering in the soft light of the moon she stared at, waving gently in the cold night breeze.

“I suppose it may have been because I was named after it. _Luna._ Both the moon itself, and its embodiment. The idealisation of a silent watcher, a goddess, so close yet so far, consistent across the years, across continents, spanning lives and cultures and beliefs”, she continued, voice soft, heedless of his sharp emerald eyes, watching her as he sat by her side, silent, listening.

“Perhaps because, a long, long time ago, me and mummy and daddy would clamber up to the roof of the Rookery, and just watch the new moon cross the sky. Or maybe because it was the only companion I had on those night after mummy had her accident, sitting alone on the bed as daddy tried to drown his shattering world in the kitchen below”, she mused, legs kicking over the open air below as they sat on the parapet of the Astronomy tower.   
His hands crept along the bare inches of stone between them, intertwining her dainty fingers in his larger ones, a soft smile blooming across her features, as her grip tightened, holding onto his hand like a silent lifeline, her silvery eyes glistening as she stared at her namesake.

“I’ve always wanted to visit it, you know? Go there, see what it's like, see what the world looks from so far away”, she remarked, “I always thought it was impossible. Magic couldn't cross the stars. Yet…. yet muggles had done it. With no magic, no precedent, just _determination_. And…. it makes me want to go there all the more.”

Luna glanced at him, her silvery eyes, usually so distant, meeting his emerald ones, burning with uncertainty, “But…. if I went…. Would you come with me?”

Harry smiled softly at his best friend, one of his closest companions as he held their intertwined hands up between them, raven locks swaying in the cold night breeze, “I’ve already told you, Luna. I would follow you _anywhere._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): I’m late. I know. The last week or so have been incredibly busy. The missing days should be put up over the next few days.


	9. Contracts with Fae

**December 9: Contracts with Fae:**

She sat in the middle of a clearing in a forest of enormous trees, scraping the iridescent sky that stretched from horizon to horizon, when she heard the first call.

The grass swayed around her as she perked up, peeking out from under the wide brim of her hat.

It wasn't a traditional summoning ritual, not in the least.

Yet it was a call, an earnest one and it was for her.

So she answered it.

With a flash, the Witch of the Fae disappeared from the unearthly clearing.

Harry cursed as he dodged the bone breakers flying through the air at him, the flash of purple light passing mere inches from his jacket.

He was outnumbered. The magic users attacking him were average at best, and despite their weirdly flowery chants, preference for close combat, apparently limited repertoires, supreme arrogance (which would have irritated him more if he wasn’t already used to similar arrogance in the Ministry), and lack of wands, he could have taken them on if it was one on one. Maybe even a two on one.

He had no hopes of winning against ten.

For the umpteenth time that day, he cursed accepting the Japan assignment.

For the third time in the last five minutes, he wished, no he _prayed_ for help.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a circle on the ground light up with an eerie glow, just a few feet from him.

Despite his situation, his eyebrow quirked upwards.

Who still used proper _circles?_

Suddenly, a bright light flashed through the chamber, and a woman appeared on the circle.

Her cerulean eyes snapped onto his green ones.

His assailants were exclaiming about… something. A curse flew by the woman. She broke her gaze, glancing at the other inhabitants of the room, eyes married in annoyance.

She waved her hand.

And suddenly, they were alone.

Eyes widening in surprise, Harry turned to face the woman, taking her in.

His cheeks tinged pink as he took in her svelte form, wearing some kind of bluish purple leotard, legs clad in translucent black stockings, splattered with stars, melding into golden heels that graced her feet. The leotard covered her torso up to her breasts, also intermittently splattered with golden stars, its sleeves covering her slender arms, black gloves covering her hands. A weird cape, the bluish purple of the leotard, was clasped around her shoulders, held in place by a four pointed star clasp, its furred collar covering her slim neck.

Her face was beautiful, ethereally so, framed by flowing silvery blond hair, he cerulean blue eyes locked on him. On her hair, a floppy honest to god wizard hat, of the same bluish purple, adorned with golden stars, its brim curving down slightly over her face.

Her voice broke the silence, beautiful and sultry, “Servant Caster answers your summons. I ask of you, are you my master?”

Harry blinked, head cocking to the side, “What?”


	10. Child of Mine

**December 10: Child of mine:**

A baby’s cries rent the air of the Potter house, insistent and demanding.

Green eyes snapped open in the dark, their owner groaning tiredly.

He propped himself up on his elbows, reaching out to pick his glasses up off the nightstand, slipping them onto his face as he looked down at the slowly rousing form of his wife, her cerulean eyes blinking open as she tried to lift her exhausted form up.

“Shh, go to sleep love”, the man said, one hand stroking his wife’s silvery blond hair, “I’ll put her to sleep.”

Sighing contentedly, the svelte woman burrowed back into the soft embrace of the mattress, her head buried in the pillow.

Sighing, the man swung his legs over the side of the bed, revealing his form. He was naked but for a pair of boxers, and the silvery light of the pale moonlight traced his toned, scarred chest.

Running a hand through his messy raven hair, he made his way over to the source of the cries.

The crib on the other side of the room.

Or rather, the infant in it.

Leaning over the crib, he smiled warmly at the tiny girl inside.

At the sight of her father, she quietened down, her cries dying down to loud fussing.

“What’s wrong honey?”, He asked softly, his hand coming down to check her diaper, “You obviously don't need a change. Hungry?”

Her tiny hands came up, reaching out for him, chubby fingers closing and opening. Her short silvery blond hair, just like her mother’s, glimmered in the moonlight as her emerald green eyes met his identical ones.

Harry smiled softly at his daughter, before reaching down to pick her up carefully, one hand supporting the back of her neck, the other supporting her weight, bringing her up to his bare chest.

He could have sworn she sighed softly as she closed her eyes, snuggling into his warmth.

Fleur smiled as she lay on their bed, watching her husband gently rock their sleeping daughter as he held her in his arms, his gaze full of love and adoration.

This was her bliss.

The bliss her daughter brought to their home.

She needed nothing more.


	11. Rude!

**December 11: Rude!:**

“I have to know now?”, Harry asked incredulously, green eyes wide, filled with confusion as he stared at his wife, “Please tell me I misheard that.”

Fleur gulped loudly, suddenly terrified of the way her husband’s eyes were boring into her own.

“You…. have to fight _that -_ ”, her dainty, pale and stretched out, indicating the…. _Thing_ that loomed behind Harry, a clothed bundle clutched in its beefy arms, “For our daughter.”

Harry turned to look at the… creature. Its form was that of a massive stork, long neck, slim legs and all. Except its chest jutted forward, rippling with musculature, complemented by the beefy, human-like arms that took the place of its wings.

It slowly set the bundle that was Harry and Fleur’s newborn daughter on the ground. It glared at the raven-haired wizard, before it spoke, its voice a rumbling growl, “Yes human! Come! Face me in combat to prove your worth!”

Ignoring the ominous declaration, Harry turned back to his wife, “Why do I have to fight him?”

Fleur suddenly found a sudden interest in her shoes.

“Fleur?”

“...Veela...culture…thing?”

Sighing explosively, Harry put his face in his hands.

“Human! Face Me! Prove that you are worthy of being a father to this child!”

Not even turning to face the thing, Harry held up a finger, “One moment.”

He continued his questioning of his blonde wife, “So… this was why you didn't get the usual.... Events that come with pregnancy?”

“Y..Yes?”

“HUMAN! Do not ignore me!”, The stork creature bellowed.

“Fucking hell!”, Harry exclaimed, whipping around to face it, “I’m having a conversation with my wife here! Would it kill you _not to interrupt?_ ”

Turning back, his hands came up to run through his messy locks as he sighed once more, totally missing the wide-eyed look of shock on the stork creature’s face.

“So… How do we even know if it's our daughter? I mean, since she didn't develop in your womb apparently?”

“Actually...”

“Forget it! I don't even think I want to know.”

A meaty fist came down heavily on the green-eyed man’s shoulder, the stork creature it was attached to glaring at him, “HUMAN! D-”

Before it could finish its sentence, Harry's hands found their grip on the fist.

Before he flipped the creature over his shoulder.

It impacted the ground next to Harry and Fleur heavily, gasping as it lay eagle spread, eyes wide, surprise evident.

Yet, as it moved to recover, Harry’s foot stomped down on its lower stomach. _Hard_.

The creature reflexively curled into a ball, whimpers escaping its fetal form.

“Honestly”, Harry huffed, “I _asked_ you not to interrupt! _Rude!_ ”

Shaking his head, he turned back to his gaping wife, “So… any other ‘Veela Culture Things’ I should be aware of?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): This was actually written from a prompt on the H/F server for the author Charlennette’s birthday.  
> Which would have been great… if I wasn't nearly a week late.  
> Anyway, please do take a look at Charlennette’s works (same name on FFN and Ao3). They’re one of the pinnacles of writing I aspire towards.  
> So… to an amazing author, and an amazing person, Happy (Belated) Birthday Charl!


	12. I'm Not You

**December 12: I’m Not You:**

Louis had thought that Hogwarts would be amazing.

It was where his papa had gone to learn! And his papa was amazing too!

So it had to be amazing!

And it would have been.

If not for one thing.

He wasn't his papa. He knew that, his papa and mama made sure of it. They had made him see that he was his own person.

So _why?_ _Why_ couldn't anyone else see it?

Everywhere he went. Everything he did.

They would compare him to his papa.

“You’ve obviously inherited your father’s proficiency at Defense.”

“...A born flyer. Just like his father.”

“Mr. Potter, I’ve only known one person who had a better talent for getting into trouble. Just like your father.”

“A wonder with magical creatures. Just like your father.”

“You’re much more studious than your father was at your age.”

“A natural leader, just like your father”

“..Just like your father”

“..Like your father”

“.. your father”

“.. Your father”

“... _your father._ ”

His teachers. The headmistress. His friends. His dorm mates. His Housemates. The rest of the students. It came from everywhere, the _constant_ comparisons, the disappointment when he couldn't match up, the attributing of every success to his being his father’s son.

He didn't know if they meant to, but it ate away at him.

He wasn't his father. Yet that was all they seemed to see in him.

His father.

Harry Potter was a great man, but _Louis Potter_ wasn't Harry Potter.

Why in the world couldn't they see it?

He’d tried to talk to his elder sister, but no matter how much she tried to understand, she never could. She hadn’t had the comparisons, the scrutiny, the expectations, the _pressure_.

It was overwhelming for the eleven year old boy.

So he trudged through the year, barely able to take it.

Until one day…. He just _couldn't_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): Continued in the December 13th drabble.


	13. Your Shadow

**December 13: Your Shadow:**

“Louis”, the raven haired man whispered, crouching down in front of the child’s shaking form, green eyes welling with concern, “Louis, what’s wrong?”

Louis Potter sobbed, shaking his head as he hid his face in his hands, “Nu- Nothing! N-n- Nothing’s wrong. I’m sorry!”

Sighing softly, Harry sat down on the carpet of Louis’s bedroom, watching his son. Softly, he asked, “Louis. It's okay if something is wrong. You can tell me..”

“No- Nothing‘s wrong”, the boy interjected, wiping at his cheeks with his hands, “I’m s- sorry for snapping at you and mama. I… I shouldn't have, and it was wrong and -”

His words were cut off as two strong arms wrapped around him in a warm embrace, pulling him in so his eleven year old body was nestled in his father’s arms, head resting on his papa’s shoulder.

“Shhh”, Harry whispered, his voice warm and soothing and _safe_ , “It's okay. I’m here. You don't need to tell me anything. Just let it all out.”

With that, the dam broke. Harry cradled his son’s form as the young boy’s body racked with sobs, tears wetting his shirt. For a while, they just sat there, Louis’ sobs the only sound in the room.

Slowly, the crying petered to a halt.

“Louis”, Harry said softly, hand rubbing his son’s back in gentle, soothing strokes, “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

The young boy nodded shakily. And began to speak.

He told his father of the comparisons, the expectations, the pressure, of how he couldn't seem to find a way _out_ of his father’s shadow.

He poured his heart out to his father, and when all was said, there was silence.

Harry said nothing. Yet, Louis could see his father’s face. And it spoke volumes. Volumes…. Of anger.

“Those _bloody twats!_ ”

Louis blinked in surprise at the curse. He hadn't heard his father swear in front of him or his sister in a long time. Reflexively, he interjected, “Language, papa.”

Harry froze, and for a moment Louis wondered if he’d done something horribly stupid.

Then, his father relaxed, chuckling, as he looked back at his son, “Oops. Maybe… _not_ tell your mother about what I just said?”

Louis chuckled as well at his father’s sheepish expression. Hesitantly, he spoke up, “So… you’re mad?”

“Mad? Of course I’m mad!”, Harry exclaimed, “at _them!_ ”

“Why?”

“Why? Why _wouldn't_ I be? They’re insistent on trying to find me in my son, they’re missing the amazing, wonderful, - and handsome, if I do say so myself - individual my son is!”

And in his father’s wide green eyes, Louis saw his own beaming face.

His papa saw him for who he was.

He was no longer in his father’s shadow.


	14. Brothers

**December 14: Brothers  
** If you looked at Ron Weasley now, you would never be able to tell that he was a man weighed down by burdens. That his smiling face, always warm and carefree, hid a man who grappled with his past, with what he had done, and what had come from it.

Ronald Weasley was a man burdened. Burdened by his betrayals, burdened by his broken promises, promises he made to himself.

Burdened knowing he had gotten fame and recognition for being a glorified sidekick. Burdened by knowing that he had wasted his life trying to slack off, and behave like an utter twat, while his best friend struggled to _survive_. Knowing that he had left his friend once out of petty jealousy, and that had broken him enough to make him swear to himself that he would never do it again.

Tormented by the knowledge that when push came to shove, he had left once more.

Weighed down knowing that the woman he married deserved so much more than his sorry ass. Hurt by the fact that despite knowing that, he never wanted her to leave.

His nights were plagued by ‘what ifs’, by his knowledge that if he had not been so utterly useless, things could- no, _would_ \- have been different.

The clinking of glass on a bartop drew him out of his narration.

He turned, his blue eyes meeting the emerald green of his closest friend.

“I never knew you thought that”, Harry sighed, his gaze dropping back to his half full glass of whiskey, “I’m sorry.”

Ron gaped at him, “Bloody hell mate? Why’re you _apologising?_ _I_ should be the one who is falling at your feet, begging for _your_ forgiveness.”

Harry turned to him, “Forgive you? I forgave you a long, long time ago mate.”

Ron’s jaw shut with a clack. Studying his drink, his voice was barely above a whisper, “Why?”

“Why?”, Harry started, before leaning back a bit, sipping on his whiskey, “Why not? You’re right. The boy you were was an utter twat, blinded by prejudice, held back by laziness, seething with jealousy. He was forgiven once, and when he messed up again, I never forgave him. He didn't deserve what he got.”

Ron had just opened his mouth when Harry continued, “But… That boy is dead. He died in the war. The man next to me is the one I forgave, even though there was nothing to forgive. The man who literally walked through fire for what he believed in, for the people he loved.”

Harry turned to Ron, his gaze piercing, “This was the man who knew that things had to change. The man who wholeheartedly helped the girl he loved to greatness. The man who became a master tier chef just so he wouldn't have to depend on his wife or mother, who threw himself into hell time and again just so the people he loved wouldn't have to. This is the man I would trust to have my back no matter what. The man I consider a _brother_.”

Ron didn't reply. For there was nothing to reply to.

Harry lifted his glass, offering it to his brother in all but blood, “To brothers.”

Ron smiled softly, before he lifted his glass as well, touching it to Harry’s.

“To brothers.”


End file.
